


The King's Heart

by percyval



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Stardust - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Stardust, Arranged Relationship, Asexual Merlin, Attempted Heart Eating, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Boys saving another boy who happens to be a fallen star, Canonical Character Death, Creeper Charlie, Crossover, De-Aged Harry Hart, De-Aged Merlin, Dean is what we in the business call a right bastard, Drama, F/F, Falling In Love, Flashbacks, Flirting, Kidnapping, Love Triangle, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Multi, Non-Canonical Character Death, Non-Consensual Kissing, One-Dimensional Charlie Hesketh, Poly, Polyamory, Slow Dancing, Supportive Tilde, Temporarily Unrequited Love, This is Stardust what do you expect?, Threesome - M/M/M, Waltzing, Warlocks, Witches, princess bride elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-19 16:12:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12413538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percyval/pseuds/percyval
Summary: What better way to change your life than to save an anthropomorphic star from being killed, living it up on a pirate ship, and then having to save your star lover with your pirate lover along with a bunch of other people you've never met before?





	1. In Which a Star Falls and Two Foolish Boys Pursue It

In the sleepy village of Wall, a young man has just turned eighteen. He lies in his bed, his head drowning with the looming dread that he would soon have to take over the family business: sheep shearing and wool-spinning. Dad was getting on in years, and Mum couldn’t handle the workload by herself.

It seemed entirely unreasonable that he was the only son, that his parents had only born one son when most other members of the community had multiple children for practicality. More children to take over the farms and shops, more children to help with dailies, more chance you’ll have children that live to see twenty years old.

Of course, this young man had no such luck; he was the only child, he was in perfect health, and he’d spent his childhood reading novels of fantastic people doing fantastic things. He’d never one complete hour watching his father shear sheep or even spin the wool into bundles to be sold at market.

Harry (that is this young man’s name) must have suspected that he would grow up to be a man of action, a king, or maybe he’d grow up to discover he had magical powers that he couldn’t have fathomed in his wildest dreams. A wizard, maybe without a flowing grey beard and a flamboyant robe. For the time being, he was a mundane young man with no career plans that didn’t involve sheep.

He’d been scolded by his father for not bothering to learn the family trade but his mother was much more lenient. She wanted him to learn a real skill, banking or the like and move to a big city like Bath or Chester. She had big dreams for him, Harry appreciated that much.

While in this stupor of imagining his life as a spinster, he felt so horribly upset about his life. Thus far, the most exciting moment in his life was traveling to the next town over, where his grandparents lived and meeting a few boys who were friendly to him for the week he stayed. The rest of his life was sitting up in the rafters of the barn, sketching in his notebook and writing fantasy novels that impressed the girls in Wall. They all nearly fell over themselves over Harry’s stories, loving the romantic elements and the happy endings. A few boys in the village liked them too, enjoying the adventure and the occasional sword-fighting, but it was nothing that impressed them.

It was a shame that he was attracting the wrong attention from his stories. Or maybe the audience he was hoping for just wasn’t reading. Or, most likely, romance and “happily-ever-after” didn’t appeal to the typically rough and tough boys that made almost all the young population of Wall. Harry couldn’t even be sure that most boys in Wall _could_ read.

His stories were handwritten and sold for a shilling at the market. Harry shared the booth with Hart’s Woolworks, where he would regale his tales to pretty girls all throughout Wall.

Of course, his standard of pretty was quite skewed: almost everyone in Wall was stocky and grey, almost all the men much too dull for Harry to even take a second glance at. The girls were all average by most people’s standards, but to Harry, they were quite pretty. Not enough to tempt his fancy but enough to inspire the descriptions of his heroines and other female characters.

No, the most interesting-looking person in Wall was his unfortunately close friend, Charles. Charlie was his preferred moniker, just like Harry was christened Harold. While Harry didn’t exactly like Charlie, he was the one truly colourful person. He had been Harry’s childhood friend, as he was the first boy who approached him while he was out with the sheep. It didn’t help that their families were also friendly.

By now, Charlie is the same age as Harry, and he is engaged to be wed to a boy he quite loved. Digby, if Harry was correct. A dreadful name for a dreadful person. Charlie has a job as a cobbler, he also makes a few extra quid on the side taking extra shifts guarding the wall.

It was one night they were both guarding the wall when Charlie broke the news.

They had been standing in solemn silence after saying brief “hello”’s, greeting each other as they often did. The silence was unbearable to Charlie, he was the type who enjoyed speaking when there was nothing else to do. Harry wasn’t quite like that.

They stood with their backs facing each other, Harry sitting on the side of the wall that faced the dark, uninviting forest. Charlie sat on the side that faced Wall, the forest was too foreboding and unsettled him.

“What are you going to do, Harry? Going off to make something of yourself, maybe you will submit your stories to a real publishing company?” He grinned in a wicked manner, his already exaggerated features just being accentuated by his strangely-smug expression.

“I have been thinking of it,” his tone was harsh, he didn’t care to converse with Charlie much. It broke his concentration.

He felt Charlie lean in closer, still smirking.

“What about _maaarriage_?” His voice turned sing-songy, in a way that made Harry scoff. He pulled himself away from Charlie, furrowing his faint brow at him.

“What about it? Have you heard some rumour that I have found a potential husband?” He groaned at Charlie’s teasing. He wouldn’t normally let it get to him, but that night was different.

His dad had threatened to kick him out if he didn’t find a job soon enough, and he wasn’t about to let himself sink to the level of a shop boy. He had to choose some profession soon, something to support him for the while when he wasn’t a successful fantasy writer.

“No, but I could guide you in the right direction.” Charlie fancied himself a matchmaker when in all reality he wouldn’t have been able to set up Romeo and Juliet on a date. “Digby has a friend: Hugo. He has a well-paying job, I think you should consider it.”

Harry simply scoffed, and he didn’t regard Charlie for the rest of the night. Not even when Digby snuck out from his house to meet up with his fiancé. Not even when they both talked coyly of returning to Digby’s house, and not even when they eventually left. Harry just stood in the gap in the wall, sighing and thinking up another plot for another story.

This was back during a time when it was still original to write a character similar to yourself. During the initial start of Harry Hart’s blue period, he thought up a plot that he would write to keep himself pleased for a few months. The pleasure lasted for three and a half hours. He wrote a quite steamy scene that he could never publish, not under his real name, at least. But it kept him happy a while. Writing a romance that appealed purely to him and other people like him. He locked the short stack of papers into a desk in his room, keeping the key on his person at all times.

Taking his frustration out on the page wasn’t productive but it kept him from having outbursts at his parents. Writing out his unhappiness about his situation helped, it didn’t solve his unhappiness in any way, however. As long as Harry was locked up in the barn or his room, he felt like blue embodied in a man.

And now, he lies in his bed, trying to plan out the next day carefully. Charlie has arranged a date between both him and Hugo, but he wasn’t exactly excited to meet him. From what he’d heard from Charlie and through some whisperings, Hugo was dreadfully dull. Harry made an amazing impression, but it purely counted on him working off somebody else who also makes great first impressions.

Harry was planning for the date to go well and for the two to meet each other's parents eventually marry. If Hugo really was so well-off, Harry could be stay-at-home. But he needed to be doing something. He’d feel worthless if he just sat around. He might be able to make a career out of writing, he wouldn’t have to worry about spending his time sheering aromatic sheep and forming the itchy wool into garments. That would have been his version of Hell on Earth.

If all went well tomorrow, Harry would be married to someone that could potentially be a fine man that could support him in doing what he loved, or if it went as poorly as it could, he could forget about the event entirely and continue considering his future.

It was quite sad that so far, this imagined life with Digby was his best option. Relegating himself to a bored house-husband when his dreams were almost completely realised.

In the morning, he’d have a clearer head judgement wouldn’t be clouded by endless “what-ifs” and doubts about his life choices.

* * *

 

The next morning, Harry awoke to his mother calling him down to the front room. It wasn’t until Harry had stepped into the room only wearing woolen pants and a half-buttoned shirt that he realised it was midday and a man he presumed to be Hugo was sitting in a chair, chatting with his father. Beside Hugo sat a man with a round, tomato-like face who looked surprised at the young man, who he then assumed was Hugo’s father.

Hugo grinned at Harry, who rushed a hand through his brushed-out curls and returned upstairs without speaking a word. When he returned, fully-clothed this time, Hugo stood up, still giggling. Harry went in to shake hands, but Hugo held his out. If he was expecting a kiss, he must have considered himself to be the Queen. Despite wanting to act like a gentleman, Harry took his hand and shook it gently. Hugo’s father was plump and stout and when he walked over to Harry to properly greet him, he waddled. They too shook hands.

Once everybody sat down, the conversation started again.

“So, Harry, you’ve taken an interest in Hugo?” His father asked, gesturing to the boy. Harry didn’t want to say “no, I was set up on a date and I hadn’t even seen Hugo in years until now.” He’d already screwed up his first impression, might as well try to make up for it.

“Yes. I’ve been infatuated with him since we were in school. Always so quiet and mysterious, very charming.” Faking sincerity would have to do. Hugo smiled in a forced way, he too was faking sincerity.

He had found Hugo a bit interesting during school, but Harry’s affections were caught by another boy who’d left town after they’d graduated. He ran off to the place beyond the wall and he’d never been seen again. Harry’s love of fantasy and intrigue with the wall grew ever since then. What adventure and romance there must be beyond the wall!

“Of course. You’re not just interested in him because he makes double your father’s yearly salary?” Harry’s father glares, he didn’t seem to notice before that Hugo and his family were such snobs.

“No. Actually, Charlie told me we’d be a fine match.” Harry fakes a smile, he fakes it better than Hugo had.

They continue to chat, Harry isn’t involved in the conversation, he’s thinking up a story. Hugo stares at him after a while of Harry gazing into space, his eyes seemingly focused on the fireplace. Hunks of charcoal sit in the bottom, adorned with piles of ash. The poker lay against the brick wall, which stacks up to a chimney poking out the top of the roof. The chimney became the snout of a dragon, the fireplace it’s belly, the smoke rose from the scaly beast’s nostrils and threatened to eat a prince he was keeping captive.

Hugo snaps his fingers mere centimetres away from Harry’s face, shocking him back into alertness. He stares at him, smiling a bit sheepishly when he realizes he’s been daydreaming so obviously.

After a few more lingering minutes of conversation, the two take a walk to town square, Harry hoping to go buy more writing paper from the shop.

“Did Charlie tell you anything about me?” Hugo implores, hands tucked in his pockets.

“A bit. Tell me about yourself, he’s not exactly reliable.” Harry runs his hand through his hair, pushing it further up and away from his face.

Hugo’s face scrunches up, he attempts to hide his distaste with the date but it’s not working in his favour.

“I am a book maker, I plan to move to London, I have two sisters and a brother, and I don’t think you’re paying attention to me.” Hugo scoffs, he doesn’t seem to notice the faire in front of him.

Caravans and marquees are set up around the square, and the most intriguing people were selling their wares. A very tall man approached Harry, introducing him to the faire. Hugo only noticed something was off when a bird on a perch became a human boy stocking something at a caravan.

He started backing away, his eyes were wide and his heart was racing. Hugo ditched Harry in no time, but he didn’t notice. He was entranced by the sights, he started at the caravan that scared Hugo away. A red-faced man was selling off things like trinkets and exotic fabrics. He had no clue why, but he was immediately drawn to a candle.

“Hold off that, boy, you don’t wanna damage the merchandise, aye?” The man took the candle out of his grasp, Harry stepped back quickly.

“What is that?” He questioned, furrowing his brows while he looked at everything else on the stand.

The red-faced man scoffed and he crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“You don’t wanna to know what that is. You couldn’t even comprehend what that is that you’re lookin’ at.” He took the candle and put it back into a box.

Harry stepped away from the caravans and the beautiful people wandering about, he decided his best course of action would be to move along. The red-faced man had already gone to talk to a grey woman examining a roll of deep violet fabric with her spindly fingers.

Maybe he’d go apologise to Hugo, try to get the engagement back on.

* * *

 

Far off, where magic permeated the air with electricity, a princess stands at a large window, watching the night sky through the window. Her father lies dying in a bed only a door away from her. Princess Roxanne’s face bears a grey, somber expression as she watches the stars. Her father would soon be dead, and soon she’d have to accept the bitter reality that she couldn’t inherit the throne.

It was tradition for the oldest male child to inherit the throne, and Roxanne was furious at the fact. She had never properly been trained to rule, but she knew more of ruling and of the kingdom in general than her brother had.

James had never desired to be king. It was a nice thought, he guessed, but ruling wasn’t in his blood. He wasn’t diplomatic, he didn’t like the idea of being responsible for a whole kingdom full of people and creatures he barely was familiar with, and most of all he hated the idea of having to betray his dear sister to get it. Roxanne’s determination to become queen bordered on terrifying.

He was trained at a young age to do all the duties kings had to do. Roxanne, however, was only trained to be a refined lady for the first year of her education, which she did not enjoy, but did work to excel at. If she let herself be forced through lessons on manners and proper posture, she was promised to sit in on James’s lessons when he started them a year later. Her eyes lit up when she watched one of his fighting lessons and soon she was smacking their trainer with a wooden sword and disarming him in an almost inhuman manner.

James had gone off to every corner of the land of Faerie with their father, and was promptly told he didn’t appreciate that in a few year’s time he would be the king. Roxanne got her own tour of the land after that, but their father wasn’t quite so excited when she declared that she’d go to any length to be queen.

“Remember, my dear Roxanne,” he told her as they sat in front of a crackling fire, the servant that had tagged along was turning sausages in a shallow pan, “your brother will always be the first choice to be ruler, unless he passes…”

Her brow arched, her lips curved into a harsh frown and her fingernails wrung the fabric of her sleeve. She felt her eyes burn at the prospect of a male being the ideal ruler of Stormhold, even if he had no interest in becoming king. She hadn’t wanted to kill her brother, either. He wouldn’t kill her if she was first in line for the throne, he’d likely be thanking her.

She made up her plan already, but it was starting to look like if she wanted to achieve her childhood dream, she’d need to break her vow.

Roxanne was brought back to reality when a servant asked for her to come into her father’s room. It was cold when she stepped inside, and when she saw her father she felt something inside her twist.

She stood herself at the foot of her father’s bed, listening in tearful awe as he took raspy breaths. She didn’t want to be closer, distance would make her appear more composed.

“Roxanne, you were always so diligent and invested in your training.

He sat up, his skin turning white as he finished saying his goodbyes to her.

The room chilled, she gripped her two hands in front of her, her shoulders squared and her chin raised.

“Bring James in. I have one last thing to tell you both.” He commands in a fading voice.

When the four have all situated at the foot of his bed, the king smiles faintly. In a few ways, he’s proud.

“It seems that we’re having trouble deciding a new heir to the Stormhold throne. I must admit, when I was crowned, I was the oldest and my sisters weren’t interested, and this method hasn’t been used in a few generations, but by the end of this, we’ll have a new ruler of Stormhold. Now, the task is simple.”

In his hand, he raises a necklace. A delicate gold chain somehow holds a large red stone, it glimmers romantically in the surrounding candlelight, the light catching on every inch of the surface. As the king speaks, colour drains from the stone. Roxanne’s eyes are wide and hungry, she looks entirely enraptured with the necklace. James is mildly intrigued with the necklace, especially when it begins to rise from their father’s hand.

“Go find it.” The necklace rips from his hand and flies out the window like it had been thrown. Roxanne and James dash to the window, watching a shrinking sparkle ascend into the sky. By the time the necklace is a hundred yards away, their father has collapsed onto the bed.

Once the speck has disappeared into the sky completely, Roxanne and James share a long moment of silence before leaving the room.

“James, do you want to be king?” Roxanne asks in a quiet voice. The prince looks down, subtly shaking his head.

“Father wouldn’t have wanted me to be king, and I don’t want to be king if it means being without the one I love.” He finds himself choking up and clears his throat into his fist. Roxanne reaches out one hand and claps it on his shoulder.

Her eyebrows curl up in sympathy, she knew that same pain.

“We will find Alastair, just like we will find Tilde.” She speaks without a falter in her voice, but James knows that bringing up her lover brings her to tears when she’s in private.

“Even though they may be long gone from Stormhold?” He chokes up further still. He doesn’t wish to think that they could have died, but he is certain that could be the case.

Roxanne opens up her arms, holding her brother while he stops himself from tearing up. While he couldn’t have guessed himself, she sheds a few quiet tears without so much as a sniffle.

* * *

 

Hugo had only agreed to take on Harry’s offer for another date if he listened to him and didn’t decide to run off somewhere else mid-conversation. Harry immediately regretted his choice when Hugo wouldn’t shut up about not doing something like that to Harry, and that he must not care about having a relationship if he immediately abandons him when he gets the opportunity.

He “guards” the wall with Charlie, both of whom sit in the grass of the field just next to the hole in the wall. Charlie’s been going on about his engagement while Harry watches the stars.

His mother had convinced him at a young age that the stars can see you, and they watch everything you do. Of course, she only did this to convince him to be a good child, but he did carry some of that whimsy into adulthood. Would it be so odd to think that the stars can watch you back?

“Digby’s getting impatient. He wants us to marry as soon as possible, but I know that the longer I make him wait, the more he’ll want me.” Charlie purrs like a cat and Harry scoffs, locking his gaze on a shimmering light tumbling through the sky.

The light hits another, the larger light comes falling after it.

His eyes widen.

“Charlie,” he grabs other man’s arm and shakes gently. “Look up there.”

He ignores him, until Harry’s shaking becomes too annoying for him.

“What is it, Harry?” He turns his gaze up to the sky. He only looks mildly interested when he sees the star plummeting towards Earth.

“Now _that_ would be a wedding gift, don’t you think? A fallen star. How many people could say they have their own star?” He laughs, watching it descend further and further.

Once the idea has had a few moments to turn around in his head, Charlie looks to Harry, grinning.

“You’re absolutely right.” He stares back up with large, bright eyes. “Digby wouldn’t take his eyes off me if I gave him a star.”

Harry cocks his head to one side, wondering how Charlie could have taken him seriously.

“You can’t give him a star. It’s a giant glowing rock, what’s he going to do with it? Look at it, wear it on a golden band, carry it in a bag and show it to all his posh friends?”

Apparently, Harry just didn’t get it.

“It doesn’t matter what he does with it. What matters is that he’ll be unable to resist me if I give him that star.” The word “ _resist_ ” doesn’t sit well with Harry, but he doesn’t question it any further.

After a long negotiation, Charlie convinces Harry to go out and get the star.

“If we get it, I’ll split it with you. You can use your half to get your books published, and I can use my half as a present for Digby.” Charlie has now convinced himself that he knows how it works to capture a star.

“Of course.” The sarcasm doesn’t resonate, and Harry had now wrapped himself up into Charlie’s stupid scheme. It was his fault for putting the idea in his head, but he didn’t blame himself for Charlie taking it seriously.

They leave each other that night with a new plan to leave Wall. While the prospect of getting a fallen star and bringing it back was a stupid one, he wasn’t about to pass up a chance to explore the world beyond the wall.

* * *

 

That night, Harry had a dream that he didn’t wake up from without some shame. He dreamed he was sleeping with two handsome men, one of whom had beautiful silver eyes, the other of which had long, black hair that ended at his shoulders. In the dream, he and the black-haired man were dominating the silver-eyed man, who was enjoying it immensely. The black-haired man was kissing him while Harry was engaging in intercourse with him. The dream ended with the three of them lying in bed, gazing lovingly at each other.

The feeling he had when he woke up was something he’d never felt before. It was so surreal, he couldn’t understand why he was feeling like that over a dream. In a rush, he changed out of his sleep clothes and put on his day clothes at nearly three in the morning, deciding he wasn’t going to go back to sleep if he could manage it.

* * *

 

His head is heavy and he cannot lift it. He still hasn’t adjusted to this fleshy body, with all of its odd features. A dull pain is throbbing in his leg, something he’d never felt before, and he winces as he puts weight onto it.

Beside him, there lies a necklace. Somehow, it survived the fall unscathed, while he was scraped and scratched and dealing with an injured leg. He picks it up, deciding that if it fell him, it was now his.

The stone is unnecessarily heavy, when he places the weight around his neck it feels horrific.

He curses under his breath, looking around himself. Unfortunately, he found himself sitting in the middle of a crater, lying on a hardened metallic pool.

For a moment he could ignore the pain in his leg and gaze up at the sky, his eyes turning sad. The hollow feeling in his chest resonated throughout his body, he couldn’t comprehend that he was stuck down there, sitting on his arse in a giant crater with no possibly way of getting out. A hint of fear rose in his chest, it grew to a feeling of dread that wouldn’t leave him.

Somebody would eventually find him, and there was a great chance he would be dead before he was put back up in the sky.

 _Daisy_ , he thought, his young sister who would panic when she found out he was stuck. He could already begin to hear small whispers, questioning where he was and what was going on.

One shimmering tear dripped down his face and fell to the ground, appearing like a drop of mercury.

* * *

 

Past the wall lived things that Harry couldn’t even imagine. He felt bile rise in his throat and his chest went heavy as Charlie followed behind him, into the expansive dark woods. For all the village knew, they were guarding the wall. He could no longer consider himself responsible for deciding to abandon his post for such selfish reasons. For all they knew, the star would be gone by then and even if they acquired it, they’d have no clue what to do with it.

What can two young men do with a metallic rock? He hadn’t considered it too much before they began their trek into the unknown. Harry held his tongue when Charlie would go on about how much Digby would adore him for getting him a star. He’d be stuck with _this_ man for at least a week, wandering through the woods until they find some huge beacon of light.

They’d barely even left Wall, and they were soon a few strides out of these woods and into another set of woods.

Charlie’s father had thankfully given him a few provisions to get them through Stormhold, as they now found out it was called. He gave him a map, a compass, and a thin silver chain. Apparently, his father had acquired it when he made his own journey into the Stormhold market. His mother had been chained to a caravan, according to his father while heavily drinking with some friends one night. They fornicated in the caravan and nine months later Charlie was on the doorstep with those gifts.

“My father said this compass could show us exactly how far away we are from the star at any given time, and the map shows us exactly where it is.” His tone is always smug, Harry is convinced of it.

He already wants to give up and go home, no star is worth being around this arsehole for that long.

“He said there’s a marketplace in only a few miles, we’ll stop there and you can get some food.” He wasn’t sure how, but he even sounded condescending when bringing up that Harry hadn’t brought much food. He’d brought a small loaf of bread, a thick slice of cheese, and an apple, was he supposed to bring an entire picnic?

“I brought enough to ration, I can survive off of this for a week.” He tries to argue, but Charlie won’t hear it.

“You’re entirely too thin, Hart, I’m surprised you think that any man would like how malnourished you look.” He gestures to the faint hollows in his cheeks and his thin limbs. “You look like a tree—tall and lanky.”

Harry squints, thinking he can’t look like a tree. Everyone in his family was lanky, “lean” as his mother would call it. He wasn’t even sure how Charlie was muscular, seeing as he did no work on his family’s farm. That was all up to a few servants, and they didn’t look half as healthy as Charlie.

“How are you so sure other men don’t find it attractive? You only know the opinions of yourself and Digby, maybe Hugo.” He found it stupid to be arguing about the shape of his body, but if Charlie was going to try to insult him, he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

This made him laugh, but he looked dumbfounded when he realised Harry was serious.

“I know for a fact Hugo thinks you need to bulk up. Your ribs stick out, you know.”

“You think I wouldn’t know that? I see my body every day, Charlie.” He scowls at Charlie, insisting on walking faster than him.

“Don’t break your branch legs, Hart!” He yells after him. His eyes roll so hard they nearly bounce into the back of his head.

This journey would be longer and more painful than he previously thought.


	2. In Which the Star is Found and Turns Out to Be a Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains non-con elements, and if you don't think you can handle reading it, please refrain.

Roxanne took a long look at herself in the mirror. She tried to make herself look ferocious, but she couldn’t help feeling like a child in queen’s clothing, standing tall and proud with a sombre hint in her eyes. Her heart ached when she considered the fact that even if she became queen, there was a good chance that Tilde would never be found again.

She placed her hands to her face, a few tears coursed down her cheeks and she silently sobbed. There had been times where she cried harder than this, she remembered the sorrow that wracked her of any emotion for months after Tilde went missing. For a few days she didn’t leave her room, her eyes were red and the rest of her face was drained of colour after the fact.

But now, now she had the chance to make it right.

She wiped her tears away, recomposing herself and giving a long, deep exhale. Her father would have been disappointed to see her cry, “If a king does not cry, a queen should not, either.”

A twinge of anger coursed through her, the flames in her heart burned twice as bright as she told herself she’d find that necklace, and she’d find Tilde.

She and James had discussed that they would not fight each other for the throne. He agreed that he would instead be looking for Alastair and Tilde while Roxanne found the necklace. She felt some of her anxiety and anger bleed away when they shook on their agreement.

In her satchel, she placed a bag of runestones. Roxanne squares her shoulders as she steps out of her room. The trek down to the carriage is silent, she passes by servants and maids but she says nothing to them and they say nothing to her. James already left the night prior, hoping to find a witch that would enchant a map and lead him to Tilde, Alastair, or both.

The same sense of emptiness consumes her as she steps foot outside the castle. She settles into the carriage, pouring the runestones out into her palm and quietly asking them a few questions. When she asks “Shall I head west?” every runestone turns face-up.

“West, Smith.” She looks out the window, up into the sky, attempting to cheer herself up as the warm sun glows on her face.

* * *

 

Charlie found a way to convince Harry to stop in the marketplace only 30 metres from the wall at most. The sights were inspiring to Harry, he couldn’t have imagined what he was seeing could be real, some dream he’d had while battling a head cold. All of these people were enchanting, all mesmerising in their own unique ways.

He hadn’t been wandering for more than a few moments before he’d lost Charlie. With some odd sense of optimism, he hoped Charlie hadn’t gone far. He’d search for the most plain-looking person.

After a few minutes of desperate searching and being jostled in the crowd, Harry found himself at a stall, Charlie was leaning over the stand, chatting up the boy standing behind it. He grinned, laughing at his bad jokes and trying to coerce him to buy something. It seemed the boy had succeeded.

“Your eyes are amazing!” Charlie rested a hand on his cheek, but Harry could see right through the act. “That’s your natural eye colour?”

The boy was wrapping something up while he responded. “Ever since the day I was born.”

He passed the object to Charlie, and leaned against the stall, grinning at him. “Time to pay me.” He taps his finger against his cheek.

Harry decided to butt into the conversation, being mildly disgusted by Charlie flirting with another man would be putting it lightly.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where we could get food, would you?” He asked in as polite a tone as he could manage, but the boy at the stand didn’t like it. His smile immediately faded.

“English boy. I get ya.” He took a hard glance at Harry, eyes harsh while they talked.

“ _Okay_ , to reiterate, do you know where we can get food?” He tried not to lose his temper, but he couldn't resist.

The boy laughed at Harry, and turned to Charlie, telling him to get lost. Charlie looks offended as they walk away, cursing at the boy before turning his attention back to his friend.

“Are the rules of commitment thrown out the window once you leave Wall?” Harry turned to Charlie, a disappointed look on his face. One thing he’d admired about him was how dedicated he was to Digby, but it seemed that wasn’t true anymore.

“Bugger off, Hart, I think I see a stall selling bread.” He walks off once again, leaving Harry in the dust as he barters for a loaf of sourdough.

Harry tucks himself between two stands, watching people come and go. One person that passes by is a tall, dark man, dressed in grey and black, raking a hand through his shoulder-length black hair. He strides by, stiffly, like he’s walking on an injured leg.

He gawks on the inside as he watches the man pass. He is dressed like the illustrations of pirates he’d seen in books, and he can’t turn away. In one lucky moment, the man stops and turns to see who's staring at him.

When his eyes fall on Harry, he grins in a small, friendly manner, and then continues on. After a weird fluttering in his chest subsides, he looks to see Charlie has bought them a loaf of bread with glazed, sugar-drizzled apple slices placed on top.

“I convinced them to give us cinnamon and apple. Told them we were poor lovers running away from home.” He grinned, grabbing Harry’s arm and taking him further into the market. “Now, let’s explore.”

* * *

 

For two hours they’d been walking, Harry was following Charlie around as he guided them in circles.

“The map says we go this way!” He jabs at the flimsy piece of paper when Harry asks why they still haven’t reached anything.

“Just admit the map is leading us in circles, why can’t we just stop and sleep now?” He got whiny when tired, but he did think Charlie deserved it.

He scowled at his friend, holding the map up to the beams of the setting sun poking through the trees.

“Have a little faith. The map says we’re getting close.” He responds, walking through the thick brush of trees and bushes, all buzzing with activity that they couldn’t determine.

Charlie started walking faster, making Harry feel weaker than he already did. They speed up, fast approaching something illuminated in yellow and orange.

In the distance, past the flaming trees and husks, stands a deep crater seemingly wider than the circumference of Wall. Charlie is the one who approaches first, Harry following just behind. They slide down the curved walls of the crater and laugh as they come to the ground once again. Harry’s lingering hand tightens its grip on the strap of his bag, worrying that he’d dropped it on the slide down into the crater.

Harry can tell that there is a silver glint just a short jog away from them, but Charlie insists they came down into the pit for nothing and should just go.

“It’s just a crater. Come on, the star didn’t fall here.” He bucks his friend in the shoulder with his hand cupped into a fist.

“Then why are these trees on fire? Did they just spontaneously combust? Come on, Charlie, let’s at least look.” He starts to venture further into the centre of the crater.

“Harry, stop, we’re wasting time! We should just head back to the market. I’m tired.”

Instead of listening, he follows the shimmer just metres away. Harry’s feet hit the ground one after the other, the only sound in the great forest beside the distant crackling of burning trees and Charlie’s pleas to find a way out of the pit.

“Harry, come back here you stupid fu-” Charlie follows suit, and finds his jaw metaphorically dropping to the floor of the crater as his eyes meet the figure that Harry is gazing at in awe.

A crumpled up young man sits in front of them, holding his ankle and giving them both a confused once-over. He appears boyish, with a wide, square jaw and pretty features. It appears he’s draped in a silver frock, at least Harry believes it to be, with grey pointed-toe shoes and a gold necklace chain dripping below the cowl of the frock. His eyes are bright, they appear the same colour as his clothing, Harry believes him to look too familiar, but he can’t remember where from.

Charlie, however, finds this to be a spectacle.

“Oh my god, who are _you_?” He laughs, leaning down to the man’s level and making him furrow his dark brow.

“Can you please help me up?” The man turns to Harry, but it seems Charlie hasn’t finished his assessment yet. Charlie’s eyes follow the man, he gets a decent look at every inch of him with a stupid grin on his face.

Harry steps forward, kneeling down and gesturing to his ankle.

“Harry, wait.” Charlie pulls him back and he instead settles into his previous position. “ _Who_ are you?”

“Fine, I can play your game. Who the fuck are _you_?” His tone is cold. He sets both arms back behind him and leans on them.

Harry catches his unique gaze, one that just does not feel like the gaze of any other man he’d ever met. His eyes quickly turn back to Charlie, who’s taken to interrogating him.

“Are you some punk after our star?” He threatens, throwing his hand forward and grabbing at the cowl. He pulls the man forward a moment, but his cold gaze doesn’t falter.

His hand brushes against a hard lump beneath the slick fabric. He draws it away, looking utterly confused. Harry watches with some kind of terror that hinges on being fantastical wonderment.

“Well, I don’t think I am. If anything, I’d say you’re not the type who comes looking for fallen stars.” Even down to his accent Harry finds him intriguing. He’s stuck in a trance watching the man talk and be so delightfully snarky.

“Where’s the star? Did you already take it?” His face inches ever closer, it’s obvious the man doesn’t like it.

“All I know is that it was struck out of nowhere by a flying necklace and collapsed here.” He pulls a necklace out from beneath the cowl, a large shining diamond bordered by intricate gold detailing.

Harry is now the one to speak.

“ _You’re_ a star? You’re the one who fell out of the sky?”

The man raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, almost like he’s mocking him for not immediately connecting it. But when you come from a place as normal as Wall you’re not as quick to assume that the pretty boy sitting in a crater was really an anthropomorphized star.

Charlie thinks to himself a moment and Harry is given the chance to step forward and talk to him directly.

“Are you hurt?” He pulls his bag off his shoulder, hoping for some torn fabric or something else like it to at least secure any injury until they reached town.

“My ankle, I can barely walk on it.” He pulls up the hem of the gown hesitantly upon Harry’s gesture, revealing his gray boots.

Beyond the calf-high boots, he can see dark freckles dotted sporadically on his leg, along with a scrape on his knee. Harry finds the gown entirely inconvenient and annoying and wonders why he’s wearing it anyway. He touches his fingertips to the scrape, eliciting a sharp but nearly silent gasp from the man.

“Sorry,” he responds, noting only after he instinctively touched the wound that it wasn’t wise to do something like that. He fishes through his shoulder bag until he finds a cloth that he’d wrapped a sandwich in previously. He sets it beside his other foot, then starts to remove the man’s boot.

“So, stars are sentient?” Charlie pipes up as Harry goes to fix up the man’s ankle.

“Yes. We see everything that goes on at night.” He looks defensive, and he keeps his eye on Charlie. “How ignorant to assume that we’re just lights.”

He kneels down and looks over the star once again. His face lights up after a few more close inspections. Harry wraps the man’s leg up in the cloth, then tries to help him up. The man is incredibly hesitant at first, he starts to push himself back but nearly cries out when he pushes off wrong.

“Why are you helping him up?” Charlie looks utterly lost as Harry rests his arm under the star’s arm, walking him to the wall of the crater. “He’s not what we want.”

“We’ll bring him to the marketplace, maybe there’s a doctor there that can fix his leg.” Harry grunts as he’s now carrying double his weight.

The star flops over himself, groaning in pain as he steps hard on his bad foot. Charlie comes to his other side, and he hesitates to rest part of his weight on him. He was even hesitant to rest on Harry. The star tries to make it seem like he’s fine walking on his own, but once they reach the perimeter of the pit he isn’t so confident.

The walls of the crater are sloped unusually gently, so Harry and Charlie can easily pull the star up to the forest. The three of them carry on for a few miles, Harry eventually growing tired as the moon rises to its highest point. However, the star is wide awake, but with little energy. They sleep by a tree, Charlie taking the measure of strapping the star to the tree with a chain that his father had given him before they went out. Apparently, he’d gotten it from his mother when they first met, under circumstances that he hadn’t told Charlie even after he was old enough to know what he was implying.

Harry is asleep before he can stop Charlie from tying him up, but the star doesn’t sleep at all. He stays awake, trying his best to escape his captors. He doesn’t succeed. All night he stays awake, his shine a dull shimmer in an inky forest.

“Arseholes, both of you. Tying a kidnapped, injured man to a tree. All night. Thanks, it’s great. I appreciate the hospitality.” He chats to himself all night, praying even that his brothers and sisters can conjure up some way to save him.

He can hear faint whispers in the distance but they prove to be wind whistling through the leaves. Of course, his siblings are calling to anybody to help their brother, but every plea falls on deaf ears. Or, that is, the ears of a deeply sleeping wool-spinster.

* * *

 

Not too far away in a cavernous castle sits a deteriorating warlock tenting his fingers together. He exhales, turning to the comparatively young witch floating up the left staircase. She trails behind her a long dress train, black as the night with shimmering pieces of finely-cut glass adorning it, resembling the twinkling stars. When she moves, the glass forms constellations that had never existed and she tugs up the front of her skirt. She radiates power, it’s what drew the warlock to her. In many ways, he admired her and her talents. She could track a star like a bloodhound and the spells she could cast were beyond even his expertise. In many ways, he did envy the witch.

“Gazelle!” He calls to her in a rickety voice. He coughs into his hand and when he draws it away blood has pooled onto his pale sleeve.

“Yes?” She calls back, turning to look at him over her shoulder.

The warlock gives a dull gaze at her and begins to stand up. He shakes and wobbles about on his feet, but he’s able to cement himself on the onyx floor.

“What were you saying about that star you saw fall last night?” He inquires, starting to wobble his way over to her. For hundreds of years his health had been taking a downward spiral, he hadn’t seen a fallen star in nearly five hundred years. His assistant, she was young and still intensely powerful. Just having her around constantly reminded him that he was no longer young, and likely wouldn’t live much longer in his current state. But having her around was convenient.

Gazelle meets him halfway, finding herself standing in front of him and letting him fall onto her.

“It’s not far from us. It seems nobody has noticed yet, we could still go out and get it.” Her voice doesn’t display much inflection beyond a lingering cool demeanor, one which does still petrify the warlock in his core. He’d never admit that he found her threatening, however.

From another corner of the lair, another rickety voice calls out.

“Will you be sending Gazelle?” A looming figure tromps out from the darkness in a burgundy velvet cloak, hunched over like a vulture. White tendrils of hair fall to the middle of his humped back, his face sags like a bulldog and his eyes reflect a nearly indistinguishable blue.

“Yes,” he creaks back like a weak floorboard, “we don’t need to finish off the last star that way.”

She smiles faintly, in a way that’s nearly indistinguishable as a smile.

“Thank you, Valentine, Arthur, I will not fail you.” She holds her hands before her and bows, then begins acquiring her tools.

From a rack, she pulls a knife, a large one, with a purple-tinted glass blade and a black stone hilt. She’d been wearing a harness for the blade, slipping it in and covering the knife up with her cloak.

The smirk on her face wasn’t visible to either of them, but she had been planning what she’d do with the star long before she was nominated to go after it. Were she lucky enough, she’d be taking the star for herself and consuming the heart herself little by little over the next few centuries. She walked with a confident swagger out of the lair, first on a mission to acquire a horse, a carriage, any means of transportation.

* * *

 

“So, in the sky, you are just a star, but when you fell to earth you became a person?” Charlie asks, his hand cupping the star’s back. They hadn’t managed to find a way to free the star from his chain, so his hands were pulled in front of him, and he was unable to shove Charlie away.

“Yes. But since dickheads eat our hearts every single time one of us falls, we try not to.” He sighs heavily, his chest rising and falling dramatically.

Charlie laughs, pulling the star closer.

“Do you have names?”

“Obviously all stars have names, I’m Eggsy. Who are the both of you?” He tugs himself away from the other man.

“Eggsy? You have to be kidding.” He takes a break to cackle at the star’s name, then continues to answer his question. “I’m Charlie, that’s my friend Harry. We came to find you and bring you back to my Digby.”

Eggsy turns to Harry with a look of disgust on his face. “I thought _you_ were the sensible one, you’re letting him make me a present for his lover? _Digby_?”

Harry looks, in turn, confused.

“He’s a person, you can’t give him as a gift.” Harry furrows his brow.

“So only when he calls you out you decide to chicken out of giving him as a gift? You were going to use him to pay off a publisher and move to London, suddenly you’re Mr. Moral Superiority?”

“We didn’t know that he was a man then! We thought he was just a rock, turns out a man can fall from the sky. Maybe you should reconsider your priorities when you think it’s acceptable to give a person as a gift!” Harry argues, trying to guilt a conscious into Charlie.

Charlie scowls, kicking the star in his good leg by accident.

Eggsy tries to shake himself away from them, struggling between the two men.

“Let me go! You pricks aren’t going to use me as payment, or make me a gift!” He uses his good leg to hit a precise kick on Charlie’s shin. His injured leg moves stiffly, he yelps in pain when Harry nudges it.

“Please, calm down. We want to bring you to a hospital and fix your leg.” Harry holds him tighter under his arms.

Charlie tightens his grip too harshly on his midsection, terrifying the star.

“Make him let go of me,” he begs Harry, his silver eyes pleading.

“We can’t risk you running off. Harry would probably let you go, anyway.” His eyes are cold.

The three men continue to walk through the forest, down a dirt path. The trees whistle and hum with activity of faeries that tease Harry and Charlie.

_Harry Hart,_

_Farmboy trying to fit the writer part_

_Gone to catch a fallen star_

_Gone out far_

_Cannot find the Wall_

_Can't find anything at all_

_Poor little Harry Hart_

Harry sees Charlie become visibly irritated with the faeries mocking him, swatting away a few stray sprites who drift by his face.

Eggsy takes some joy in seeing Charlie suffer and mouths a few _thank you_ ’s to the faeries. He turns to Harry, grinning very gently. Then he yawns, his mouth forming a large O, blinking sleep from his eyes.

“Wait, why are you yawning? You’re tired?”

Eggsy sighs. He was doing _so_ well for a minute, there.

“Of course I am. Stars don’t sleep at night, do they?”

Harry scoffs.

“If you want us to continue getting you to that marketplace and get you to a physician, maybe you shouldn’t treat us like we’re blithering fools.” He scolds the star like he’s a fussy child, which, in all fairness, he was acting quite similarly to.

“Alright, then let me sleep. I won’t torture you if you let me rest.” His eyes sting, he hadn’t ever stayed awake long enough to see the sun rise further than the rooftops.

Charlie finally stopped focusing on the faeries and turned his attention to the current altercation between Harry and Eggsy.

“How do you propose that we continue on while you sleep? We’re not going to sit down and take a nap with you.” He whacked at another teasing faerie like it was a mosquito.

“I wouldn’t want you to sleep near me, anyway. Maybe one of you could carry me.” His most reasonable request sounded insane to the both of them.

Harry shakes his head gently in disbelief and Charlie looks mortified.

“Neither of us can carry you that many miles! What a _stupid_ idea!” He protests.

“Fine! Then let me go and find my own way home!” Eggsy starts pulling himself away from them. “I’ll find that market, I could barter the necklace for a Babylon candle.”

Charlie scoffs, yelling a “good riddance” to Eggsy before continuing on his merry way. He follows behind them, limping harshly as he glowers at Charlie’s back.

Harry slows down to keep pace with the star and offers to help him along. He tried to keep his distance with Eggsy as to not annoy him but he still tries to help as best he can. The tension feels like it’s melting until Harry speaks up.

“Do you need help walking?” He’s quiet when he asks, as to avoid another tongue-lashing from Charlie, but Eggsy ignores him with another snotty scoff.

After almost an hour of near-silence, Harry pipes up with another question.

“Hey, what’s that candle you mentioned? Babylon candle?”

Charlie turns back to them, watching them converse. Eggsy doesn’t acknowledge Charlie and looks to Harry. He mellowed out during the silence, at least it seemed that he did, and he answered Harry’s question with more than a noise made from the back of his throat.

“It’s a special candle. Hard to come by. It can transport you from where you are to wherever you think of. I need one to get back home.” Eggsy glances between the both of them, his gaze focusing on Charlie.

He had a large, self-assured smirk planted across his face.

“What are you so smug about?” Eggsy crossed his arms over his chest, limping his way beside Harry, just a few paces behind Charlie.

His eyes scrunch up and he refrains from laughing. Harry thinks that him not giving an ugly laugh will somehow implode the universe.

“You have to be lying! A candle can’t transport you anywhere. It seems stars are either stupid, or pathological liars.” Charlie smirks in a self-assured way, one that Harry can tell is making Eggsy scowl in response.

Eggsy scoffs, stopping behind Harry. His eyes were drooping shut, but he still insisted on trying to fight with Charlie while dreary.

“Can you go one moment without trying to discredit me? Yes, Babylon candles are real, but you come from England, you would know nothing of Babylon candles, or really anything in Stormhold, for that matter.” Eggsy walks a few paces ahead of them, nearly stomping, but then he slows down.

Harry decides it may not be so insane to pick him up and carry him a little while. Eggsy reluctantly agrees to ride on Harry’s back. His thighs are groped from their undersides, and Eggsy loops his arms around Harry’s neck, his chained hands resting over his chest. He finally falls asleep, his cheek rests against the man’s back and Harry has to work to keep the star on his back. Harry can’t say he hates carrying a pretty boy fallen from the sky through a magical forest but were they both back at the market and Eggsy wasn’t depending on him to carry him, it’d be preferable.

For hours they walk, stopping to take brief breaks and chatting all along the way. Charlie makes some comment about Eggsy’s intelligence, making a quiet remark that they should leave him while he’s asleep, all the while Charlie takes routine glances back at Harry. He’s struggling, carrying nearly twice his weight and running on barely any food. His stomach rumbles like a thunderstorm and eventually he starts to wobble beneath both his own weight and Eggsy's.

Charlie comes up to his side, watching for another moment before he offers to carry Eggsy for a while.

“I thought you didn’t like the idea.” Harry bites, he readjusts his hands underneath his thighs and tries to move faster.

He looks dumbfounded at Harry’s claim, but he still holds his arms behind his back.

“Come on, he’s asleep, he won’t oppose.” He looks at Eggsy’s bruised and scraped hands, then at the quiet, serene look on his face. “I insist that I carry him for a while. You need a break. We’re only a few metres from that marketplace, how about we head back there and get a room at that inn? We all need a rest.”

For the first time since they planned to head into Stormhold, Charlie sounded completely reasonable. He traded Eggsy to him and allowed his weary body a much-needed break.

* * *

 

Gazelle stumbles upon a horse, a tall black stead that called to her like it was her soulmate. It was tied up outside a yard, it whinnied at her when she passed.

She ran one hand down its back gently, admiring the horse and she came up to its face. A black mane fell into its eyes, she pushed the hair back and smiled faintly at the horse.

“Oi!” A voice called after her.

She turned quickly, holding a hand out in front of her. Green flames shot out of her palm, the figure coming at her crumpled to the ground, knocked unconscious by her magic. The figure turned out to be a young boy, one who held a shovel encrusted with drying mud.

She removed the glass knife from her belt and proceeded to use it to cut the rope that bound the horse to its post. The cut rope became reigns and Gazelle was off on a night stead as the sun began to die in the sky.

* * *

 

Harry carries Eggsy into the room, Charlie following behind with their bags draped over his shoulder. The setting sun pours in through the window. The freshly-awake Eggsy looks around the room in a daze, wondering where they’d gone.

“I’m going to find a doctor who can fix your leg up, please wait here with Charlie,” Harry asks kindly, Eggsy nods and watches him go.

Eggsy sits on the bed, looking around the room and curling up under the covers. He squirms under the covers, enjoying the warmth. Charlie approaches him slowly, his brow furrowing as he comes up on the bed. The star is still heavy-lidded, he barely has enough energy to pull himself out of the bed. His first rest in a bed is a comfort he didn’t expect he’d feel on Earth, but it did not compare to the weightless floating he was adjusted to.

Charlie sits down on the bed, flopping down like a dead fish and exhaling loudly. He smirks when he notices Eggsy scoffing and trying to get comfortable again.

“How about the other stars that fell? Did you see them get killed? What does eating a star’s heart do?” He sounds mocking, Eggsy wishes to bash his head in.

“A lot of my brothers and sisters have died because of people like you. What if I made fun of all the people who died at sea and ask if you watched them die?” He doesn’t want to admit he’s getting teary-eyed, keeping his voice as monotone as he can.

“Do they always die?” Eggsy remarks in his head that Charlie is an insidious bastard set out to make him cry, that his punishment for not watching what was coming his way was to be tormented by the most awful person he’d ever met.

To be fair, Eggsy had only met him and Harry since he fell to earth, but out of the two people he’d met, Harry was definitely at the top of the list.

“As far as I remember, yes.” Eggsy gets up, trudging stiffly towards a large, copper tub situated behind a wooden panel divider. He didn’t understand what it was, the only logical conclusion he could come to was that it was another form of a bed.

Eggsy crawled into it, manoeuvring himself into a barely comfortable position before he tried once again to fall asleep. While he would have much preferred to leave the room, he trusted Harry to come back soon and get him to a doctor. He hoped Harry would return and keep Charlie away.

“So, you aren’t hundreds of years old?” Charlie stands up, slowly stepping over to the bathtub. Eggsy breathes quickly and shallowly, scowling at him as he approaches.

“ _No_. But we live forever, so one day I will be.” He stares up with a cold gaze, stiffing up as Charlie takes his arm and leans down to his level.

The room is deathly silent as Charlie holds him down in the tub. The faint glow radiating off of Eggsy went dull, his brows wove into horrified arches and his tears poured like stardust down his cheeks.

“What is it that stars do when they’re in the sky? Do you just float around, waiting for something interesting to happen? You must have urges, there’s no way you could be satisfied just watching the world turn and eavesdropping on other people’s lives.” His tone chills Eggsy to the bone.

He’s cold to the touch, he shivers when Charlie leans down to kiss him. His lips are warm and stiff, Eggsy is confused and scared, he tries to pull away from it

He can’t break away from Charlie’s hard grip on his shoulders, he forces Eggsy into it.

He’s seen people kiss before, he was always fascinated with how it would feel to kiss, but this had not lived up to his expectations. Maybe it was different, kissing someone you actually wanted to kiss must have felt different from having someone you detest force you to into a kiss.

When the kiss ends, Eggsy’s starry eyes are blurring.

“Why did you do that?” He shakes, he sobs in the back of his throat and he tries to stand up. The force he puts onto his leg only makes the pain worse, he whimpers and sits back down into the copper basin slowly.

Charlie holds him down, eyes turning fiery and red like an enraged bull.

“Why didn’t you like it? Are you really so in love with Harry that you won’t at least humour me?” He sounds disgusted, he moves one hand swiftly to Eggsy’s jaw, grabbing it and forcing him to meet his gaze.

“Please, just let go of me, I won’t tell him anything.” He locked his gaze on Charlie’s dark eyes. They reminded him of the sky during a storm and his comparison wasn’t too far off.

Charlie picks Eggsy up by the arm, dragging him over to the bed. He struggles, his silver sleeves flourishing while he tried to slap his way out of Charlie’s grasp. Only one hit landed, but by that point, he was able to throw Eggsy onto the bed.

Charlie crawled on top of him, smirking and pinning down his bound arms with one hand. Eggsy turned away when Charlie leaned into him, he felt his lips on his neck and cheek, he shuddered as his face was turned up with his free hand, and more kisses were forced onto his lips.

While it was weak, and it wouldn’t help him, he started audibly sobbing. It was barely noticeable; the most Charlie did was hit him and tell him to shut up.

“Enjoy it, you prat,” he whispered into his ear, rocking his hips against Eggsy’s once. The sensation sent a horrible shiver through his whole body, it caused him to whimper, for more glittering tears to fall down his cheeks.

“ _Please_ , please just stop. Harry will never know you did this.” His voice was weak, he couldn’t add any force to his voice, he couldn’t make biting comments and he couldn’t even manage to insult him. “What about Digby? This isn’t fair to him.”

Charlie chuckled, starting to force the silver gown off of Eggsy’s shoulders. His heart pounded hard in his chest, he couldn’t breathe right as he was stripped.

His lips press down on his chest, on his collarbone, down further and further before he could no longer easily remove the dress. He started to adjust Eggsy, essentially tossing him into a sitting position, and tried to locate a ribbon or buttons on his frock. His shoulders sat high and tense, he couldn’t even imagine what would happen to him next, but Charlie made the mistake of letting go of his hands to undo the buttons. Eggsy took advantage of this and struck Charlie in the back of his head.

He shrieked and fell forward, Eggsy got up and mad a painful dash to the door, not neglecting to grab his bag hanging near the door and escaping. He could see red pouring in through his peripheral, but he didn’t stop until he saw the moon pouring down on the earth.

* * *

 

The market wasn’t as bustling as it was the day before, but Harry still found himself intrigued by everything he saw. While his gaze was darting around, he caught himself staring at a boy at a stand with large blue eyes, who seemed invested in something on the stand.

Harry walked up to the boy, hoping to ask for directions to a doctor. On the stand in front of him sat a display of little glass flowers, painted vibrant shades of red, blue, yellow, and pink. The boy noticed him eyeing them and picked one up.

“Do you like it?” He holds it gently between his thumb and index fingers, allowing Harry to view it with caution. The stem was so thin if he breathed on it the wrong way it would shatter into billions of tiny shards.

“I’d like it more if I knew what it was,” Harry began, making the boy laugh.

“It’s a snowdrop, my favourite, actually,” his voice is strained, like he doesn’t want to speak louder than he has to. He hands the flower to Harry, holding it gently between his finger and thumb.

Harry held the flower gently, turning it and examining the drooping white bud. It was pretty, he could give it to Hugo as an apology, maybe even a marriage gift if he was so inclined. But Hugo wouldn't appreciate a glass flower, especially not a small, individual snowdrop. Maybe he could give it to Eggsy as an apology for all the unpleasantness during their journey so far.

“Where are you going?” He catches Harry off-guard and he squeezes the flower, nearly breaking it as he looks back at the boy.

“Oh, I found a fallen star and he’s injured, you wouldn’t happen to know where a doc—” He says quite loudly, to which the boy gestures for him to shut up. Harry tilts his head to his right, brows curling up in confusion.

“Be quiet! Everyone will be after him if you aren’t careful.” The boy warns, his voice turning quieter but stern. “Look, I’ll give you the flower for free. Give it to him, it’ll keep him safe.” He gestures to the red-faced man approaching the caravan.

“What do you mean?” Harry inquires, before the boy gives him the flower.

“Just take it, ask questions later.” He closes up Harry’s hand once he’s placed the flower in it, shooing Harry away before the man came in ear-shot of their conversation.

“Hey, what the ‘ell are you doin’?” He yells at the boy and Harry. Harry attempts to run away, remembering that this same man already told him off before.

The man grabbed the boy’s arm, making him flinch. He was dressed now like a buccaneer, like the man wearing black and grey from the day before, holding a rumbling cannister under his free arm. He whispered something soft to the boy, something that made him glare at the red-faced pirate and glower when he turned his attention to Harry.

“You’ve come back, aye? Should ‘ave thought as much from someone so daft.” He approaches slowly and Harry stands taller, raising his chin to the man.

Heavy breathing grows louder behind him, and he thinks it’s nothing until a pair of arms wrap around his neck and something falls against his back. He turns, finding Eggsy shivering in pain and sporting a red face with tear tracks running down past his jaw. His gown is slipping down his chest, the necklace still miraculously around his neck.

Harry turns around, embracing the boy in an attempt to keep him on his feet. Eggsy brings himself closer to Harry. His eyes are red, Harry is first horrified, gently cupping his face and trying to ask Eggsy what happened, but when he connects the pieces, his lips part in disgust. Against what he would expect, Eggsy leaned into his touch and looked up into Harry’s eyes with a pleading gaze.

Before Harry can confirm that Charlie had anything to do with Eggsy’s injuries, the red-faced man comes up to look at the star.

“Well, ‘aven’t seen one of you in ages. ‘ow would you like to come with me?” He tries to come between Harry and Eggsy, grabbing his bound hands and tugging him over to face him.

Eggsy scowls, trying to tug his arm away and bring himself back into Harry’s arms, but the red-faced man grasps him tight and starts speaking to him again, his tone harsher than before.

“I’ve got a ship, I can ‘elp you get ‘ome, lad.” He grinned, trying to tug Eggsy with him.

“Let go of him, he doesn’t want your help.” Harry glares at him, trying to get the man’s hand off of the star.

Eggsy struggles against his grip, but the red-faced man brings out a knife and hacks the chain apart and grabs him close, the boy at the stand starts packing everything up and follows him.

“What the hell are you doing? Where are you taking him?” Harry yells after him, following him through the dense crowd.

“Back the fuck off, you mug,” he stops to confront Harry, but he starts violently tearing the man’s hand to get Eggsy freed from his grasp. He punches Harry, hitting him in the jaw and dragging him along.

Eggsy watches with large, horrified eyes as they’re walked out of the market, nobody caring or noticing. He tries to yell, but he can’t throw his voice. He can’t manage to push one sound past his lips.

He continues his sobbing fit from earlier, but he’s eventually shut up by Dean, after being stopped outside the market. He punches him hard in the face, making a gash on his cheek. Harry is shocked, and he curses out the man loudly.

“Don’t you _dare_ hit him, you son of a bitch!” He screams, his eyes hostile as a wild animal.

Harry can hear a few voices as he tries to imagine a way out of their current situation.

_He’ll be safe on the ship, a man will help you both on the ship._

Harry can barely even comprehend what he’s seeing when the red-faced man drags them onto a floating pirate ship just a few long paces away from the marketplace.

He and Eggsy are taken to a small, dark room on the ship, thrown in like rag dolls, and teased before they’re locked in.

“Captain’ll see you two in a while if you’re lucky.” The red-faced man hisses, slamming the door shut behind him.

The star is still soundless, he lies with his uninjured cheek resting against the hardwood floor of the pitch black room, and Harry sits up, scooting over to the man and checking to make sure he wasn’t too wounded.

“Are you alright?” He asks almost silently, fear present in his voice.

He glows faintly, smiling gently as he looks up at Harry.

“Barely,” his voice is hushed, he breathes raggedly. When Harry confirms that he can’t get them out of the room, he crawls back over to Eggsy.

Eggsy opens his arms, bringing Harry in and hugging him close.

While he was convinced that they would die on the ship, Harry was starting to take the voices more seriously.

They both lied in each other’s arms, Harry watching Eggsy slowly drift out of fear and into sleep. He smiles at the star, he shines brighter than Harry had ever seen him shine. The waiting period is longer than they anticipated, Eggsy is fast asleep and curled up against Harry when the hollow sound of footsteps approaches the door.


End file.
